Disciples Home Missions has a multitude of resources for congregational transformation available on its website.  An item I mentioned last Sunday in my sermon is a brochure called Best Practices for Congregational Transformation.  It’s there for the downloading. 

The brochure lists twenty points describing when “a congregation has the best chance of transforming.”  Among them are:

n      The congregation has discerned its identity in core values, purpose, and mission.

n      We are clear about the centrality of Christ in Christian life and ministry.

n      Congregational leadership is keenly aware that it is part of a movement of transformation within the larger church.

n      The explicit goal of the church is not just “more people in the seats” but measurable change in the social, economic, and spiritual conditions in the community around the church.

The one that got my attention the most, though, states that in a church with 100 adult worshipers on an average Sunday, if “there are 7 people who are passionate about the future of the church,” and that passion inspires 14 people holding official leadership roles to “advocate for the future of the church,” and that leads to 42 others going along for the ride, transformation is possible.

I told my congregation it reminded me of a story found in Genesis 18:16-33.  God was set to destroy a city because of the unrighteousness of the people in general, but Abraham appealed to God:  “What if there are 50 righteous people there?  Can the city be spared?”  God replied, “OK, if there are 50.”  Abraham didn’t let up.  “What about 45?”  God agreed to back off if there were 45 righteous people found in the city.  Abraham pushed the envelope, bargaining all the way down to 10 people.  God relented.

It seems that faithfulness and righteousness, even in small measure can result in a huge difference.  God spared the unrighteous city for the sake of 10 folks who could do some good there.  Congregations can be transformed if the passion for change is found among 7 out of 100 people.

Twelve people, who didn’t always know what they were doing, trailed along after Jesus, trying to figure out what he wanted from them.   They, and others who caught their passion, eventually became known as the people “who turned the world upside down.”

As far as I know, the ability of God hasn’t diminished since then.  Faithfulness carries with it disproportional power.

At least, that’s the witness of scripture.

My work as a minister has taken me to a variety of Disciples churches, all different.  They were in cities, towns, and suburbs.  Each had its own dynamics coloring the relationships of the people and the ministries they did or did not undertake.  In one case, I was the interim minister for a few months.

An aspect of my time I enjoyed at that church was a Sunday school class called “Serious Thinkers.”  The class was held every other Sunday when a van arrived carrying residents of a facility for emotionally challenged adults.  The group sang, ate doughnuts, recited prayers, and heard a Bible story read aloud which they then proceeded to act out.  A box of typical church drama costumes stood by, and everyone took a role.  The leaders of the class were dedicated and patient.  I attended that class every chance I got.

There was a day-care center at the church, serving low-income families, so the hums and echoes of children playing, bumping into things, and lining up at the water fountain provided the daily soundtrack.  Andre the chef rattled pots and pans in the church kitchen providing meals for the kids.  Signs of life at the church, even during the week!

Non-perishables were collected and stored at the church for the local community food-sharing program.  AA groups met there on certain evenings, a ham radio club had space and wiring at the church, and a legacy of caring for the needs of neighbors was evident throughout the building, with flyers and posters, offering boxes and news releases integral to its décor.

Some churches are locked up tight all week long.  Some display a wide sense of vision and purpose.  In some, the people mistrust each other.  Others are like a large extended family.

Somehow, God works through the people, wherever they are located, and in spite of all their/our particular quirks. 

A report from the Chicago Sun-Times showed up in Christian Century:  “In June, an image of Jesus could be seen on a car window in Texas; the word Allah was visible in a sliced tomato in Britain; the face of God could be seen on the ceiling of a Tennessee church; and Elvis’s profile was sighted on a rock in Colorado.”

Two questions:  How did the folks in Tennessee determine they were seeing God’s face?  Moses only got God’s backside.  And, what’s Elvis doing in there?

I seem to recall that a partially eaten sandwich was offered on eBay because someone thought it looked like Jesus.  We all have heard reports of people flocking to sites where there was some kind of apparition on the side of a building believed to be the Virgin Mary, or to statues that seemed to be weeping.

Apparently, there is quite a fascination with this kind of thing.  Perhaps it speaks to a human appetite for the transcendent, something above and beyond the existence we have as human beings.  Maybe it is a yearning for evidence that a spiritual realm exists.  I’m not sure.  I never have seen anything such as the “phenomena” described here.

Christians are called to witness to the transcendent power of Almighty God.  We follow the One who was not confined by this life, or by the death we all must suffer.  The Holy Spirit moves among us, affecting our lives in ways largely unexplainable in earthly terms.

Maybe there really are people out there, after all, who would be receptive to a witness to what we say we believe.

I came across a quote from Albert Camus:  “Too many people have dispensed with generosity in order to practice charity.”  In thinking about the differences between generosity and charity, a couple of thoughts occur to me.  You will have additional thoughts.

It seems that generosity is a way of living.  People are generous with their spirits.  They are open to people, interested in their insights, experiences, and unique perspectives on life.  People are generous with their time, allowing room for others and their needs, responding with help, wisdom, and encouragement.  People are generous with their money and possessions, sharing what they have with others, contributing to their comfort, pleasure, and well-being.  Generosity is relational, life-giving, and satisfying.  If Camus’ observation is correct, then something valuable is lost when people drop generosity from their patterns of behavior.

Charity has many positive elements to it, as well.  I suspect Camus discerned a bit of self-interest in charity, though.  Perhaps he saw charity as a transaction between superior and inferior parties – a difference between the “haves” and the “have-nots.”   Maybe he viewed charity as it is reflected in this vignette found on Steve Goodier’s website:

An American tourist in Tel Aviv was about to enter the impressive Mann Auditorium to take in a concert by the Israel Philharmonic. He was admiring the unique architecture, the sweeping lines of the entrance, and the modern decor throughout the building. Finally he turned to his escort and asked if the building was named for Thomas Mann, the world famous author.

"No," his friend said, "it's named for Fredric Mann, from Philadelphia."

"Really? I never heard of him. What did he write?"

"A check."

Sometimes our charity is offered with strings attached.  We want a building named after us.  We are angling for a tax break.  We support an institution or cause that serves our interests or priorities. 

Again, charity is not assumed to be negative.  It is, however, different from generosity in that it could be perceived as something over which we have more control.  If control is our aim, there is less of an equality of relationship and of esteem in the relationship.

I think Jesus called more for generosity than charity from his followers.  He saw everyone as a child of God, and when he spoke of justice, he wasn’t referring to punishment for misdeeds or reward for good behavior.  He was talking about the right of every person to fully experience life and access to the resources of God’s creation that provide sustenance for life. 

Perhaps if there were more generosity in the world, there would be less of a need for charity.

Somewhere I heard that today is the anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley.  I never was a fan, but I do remember the day he died, because I was driving to Indianapolis to begin classes at Christian Theological Seminary.

I was taking two days to drive from Washington to Indianapolis, and veered slightly off course to spend the night with a friend in Akron, Ohio along the way.  He was a Disciples pastor, maybe 15 years older than me, and was a graduate of CTS himself.

Back on the road the second day, the radio carried constant reports of the death of “The King.”  It was amazing that so much airtime was devoted to the news, but I subsequently have met a few of his devotees, and their passion is real.  I even knew one guy who was something of an Elvis impersonator, and watched him in the role in a church production of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.”  In that scene, my friend Ron WAS Elvis.

So, my ministry has been entirely post-Elvis.  Much has changed in the world over the past thirty years.   Disco was on the way out, other music styles have come and gone.  Wars have been fought on several continents; some are being fought today.  Attitudes about gender roles and race continue to evolve; family configurations are often more complex; the ways we entertain ourselves and communicate have changed beyond anyone’s imagination, and the air is filled with an exploding multiplicity of signals, waves and impulses.

But, the basic human yearnings for meaning and love remain the same.  Despite emptier pews, the witness of the church still is necessary – and still called for by God.

Another thing that has not changed is that Elvis still earns hundreds of millions of dollars every year. 

Time marches on.  There are only two surviving Beatles, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr.  Each has seen his 65^th birthday come and go.  More than forty years ago the Beatles took America by storm, and seeing the black and white film clips of their arrival in New York, and their famous appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, one has the sense of ancient history.  But, surely, everyone understands the impact and cultural significance of “the Fab Four.”

Perhaps not.

Ringo actually once played the role of the miniature railroad conductor on the PBS children’s program, Thomas the Tank Engine.   During his stint on the program, a young reporter interviewed Ringo and asked, “Have you done other things in the entertainment industry before getting this role?”   Ringo replied, “I was in a band.”  How did she not know?

In the analysis of the decline of the church in North America over the past forty years or more, the observation is made by various writers that church participation and even the Christian faith itself often were viewed as inherent to the prevailing culture, and that “everyone” understood what the faith and the church were all about.  Being an American meant being a Christian in this mindset.

The consequence of this assumption was that faith formation became a very low priority in the church.  The attitude of many churches became, “If everyone already was up to speed, why spend time teaching people something they already knew?”  It turned into a famine AND a drought, when it came to teaching and learning the faith.  What was assumed never was known in the first place, and now generations have come along with minimal attention to spiritual growth and strength in their lives.  Individuals, the church, communities, and the world suffer as a result.

Many people have no reasonable idea what the faith is about.  They don’t know one church from another.  Folks may or may not ever guess that spiritual health is important, let alone possible. 

A great challenge for the church is, “Are we equipped to help them?”  Do we even take it seriously enough ourselves?

On Sunday I invited my congregation to take few moments this week to go outside after dark and look up at the night sky.  Notice the stars and begin to count them.  Pretty soon you will lose track or simply be overwhelmed by how many are visible to you.  Think about how far space extends.  Is there an end point?  What is beyond that?  Are there any limits?

When God called Abram, later known as Abraham, to leave his home and his father -- everything familiar to him -- and go to a place God would show him, God promised that Abram and his heirs would inherit a new home.  Not only that, Abram's heirs would number more than the stars in the heavens.  You can read about this in Genesis 12.

I think this is an apt image for people of faith today.  Not that we'll have innumerable offspring and take over the world, but that the possibilities before us, because of God's love, are endless.  Just like the number of stars and the distance of space.

Our tendancy is to narrow things down, to make it all manageable, to think in terms too small.

This is played out in the church when we spend more time on organizational issues and business than we do on spiritual growth.  We are distracted by the smaller matters and miss the opportunities of larger concerns, namely a deepening relationship with God, and ministry in the name of Jesus Christ.

Abraham and his family were called to make God known, and to be a blessing to others.  

We are heirs of Abraham.  Look up at the night sky and remember what that means. 

Today is the birthday of our older son, Gabe.  He was born 25 years ago in Augusta, Georgia, which coincidentally also is my wife’s birthplace.  We were watching a late-night rerun of the old George Burns television show when the moment arrived for us to dash to the hospital.

Arriving around 2:00 a.m., we ended up doing Lamaze during nine hours of labor.  The decision was made, though, that Gabe would be born by C-section.  Everything went well, and around 11:19 a.m., he came into the world.  I am pleased to say I was present in the operating room, and held Gabe moments after his birth.

We were the first parents in our Lamaze class, and I attended the next meeting wearing my “It’s a BOY!” button.  The other parents-to-be asked numerous questions about the experience.   When I mentioned that Mary would be in the hospital for a few days, one fellow in the group inquired about a reality that just that moment dawned on him.  “Who’s going to fix your supper?” he asked, with just a trace of fear in his voice and face.  I hope he got that worked out.

Happy Birthday, Gabe.  You have been a source of joy for 25 years.

It’s always interesting to encounter someone whose name somehow relates to his or her vocation.  There are numerous physicians in the world named Dr. Payne.  Clergy whose last name is Lord, Divine, or even Christ have climbed into pulpits.  You, no doubt, have your own examples.   Butler, Miller, Driver, Friend, Smith, Moody, and so many others are descriptive names, and one wonders about their origins.  We give nicknames to people, also as a way of expressing characteristics or qualities discerned in their appearance, personalities or behavior:  Hoss, Slim, Lefty, Grumpy, etc.

One time, a co-worker and I tried to assist a couple of ladies experiencing car trouble as they left the garage behind our building.  We really didn’t know enough to get them on their way, and they finally called for a tow truck.  The fellow who showed up had a nameplate on his shirt.  Rather than “Tom” or “Skip,” it read, “Donkeyman.”   I thought that was pretty funny.  I nudged my co-worker, he saw it, and we both laughed.

Donkeyman said, “Are you guys laughing at my name?”  I replied, “Sorry, man, but I never saw anything like that before.”  He really didn’t seem all that upset.  Unfortunately, it was one of those times when once you start laughing everything compounds it until you lose all control.

Donkeyman decided that the other guy and I should push the car out of the garage into the alley, with him steering, so we could get the car in place for an attempt at jump-starting the battery.  So, that’s what we did -- as we laughed and made silly comments.  The two ladies seemed confused as to why we were enjoying this so much.

Finally, we had the car backed into the alley, but Donkeyman felt he still needed a better angle in order to connect the cables.  So, he got back into the car.  We resumed pushing, this time from the rear, but couldn’t budge the car.  I yelled, “Hey, Donkeyman!  What gives?  You got your foot on the brake or somethin’?”  We were doubled over with laughter.  He said, “Oh, sorry! I put it in park instead of neutral.”  We were hysterical by then, and, gasping for breath, I said to the other guy, “Hence, the name.”

Biblical names, of people and places, often describe an encounter with God or a call to God’s purpose.  In Exodus 17, there is a story of one of the struggles of God’s people as they moved through the wilderness on their forty-year journey to the Promised Land.  They were short of water and patience – with Moses and God.  Read the story to find out what happened.  Moses “called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’”  (NRSV)  According to footnotes, those two names mean “test” and “quarrel.”

Abram, Sarai, Jacob, Simon, Saul and others underwent name changes as God or Jesus called them to particular purposes.  Some of the adherents of the beliefs and approaches of Alexander Campbell, the shining light among my denomination’s forbears, were referred to as “Campbellites.”

What does it mean when we adopt the name “Christian” for ourselves?

Is it a name we bear in the presence of all, or just a select few?

Seeing a quote from Marion Barry, where he said, “It’s good to have a good God, a good lawyer and a good judge,” reminded me again how complex human beings can be.  The quote was in response to a favorable court ruling regarding tax troubles of the former mayor of Washington, DC.

Another quote, which I won’t repeat here, will forever be linked to Barry.  It was uttered when he secretly was videotaped in a hotel room with a woman not his wife, indulging in drug abuse.  That sealed his fate as fodder for outraged commentators and late night television comedians.  It was a sad period for Barry and the residents of the nation’s capital.

I remember Marion Barry from his college days in Tennessee and his involvement in the civil rights movement.  I watched his political ascent as a city council member and as mayor.  It was disheartening to many, many people when his personal demons became public knowledge.  I don’t know how many times he was re-elected mayor of D.C., even despite his legal and moral struggles.  The City Paper, a local Washington publication, sarcastically dubbed Barry “Mayor for Life,” and that is how they referred to him in articles.

On the other hand, though, at least part of Marion Barry’s ability to survive politically despite his difficulties and misdeeds was that he took care of the people.  The people on the street knew that Mayor Barry cared for them, as expressed in various programs he initiated to meet their needs.   I once had a fairly close encounter with this aspect of this complex human being.

During one of Barry’s terms as mayor, I appealed to him for his help, and he came through.  I was the Executive Director of William Penn House, a Quaker seminar center located on Capitol Hill.  From my second day on the job, the organization was embroiled in a complicated city zoning matter.  After many meetings and conversations with inspectors, lawyers, architects, city zoning people and who knows who else, the whole process ground to a halt. 

Two of the offices involved in zoning issues could not agree with each other about the zoning classification and code requirements for William Penn House.  I saw the guidebook of all the city’s zoning classifications, and it must have been four or five inches thick. William Penn House didn’t fit any of them.  Meanwhile, I was watching our program and bank account slip away, since we were closed down by the city.

Finally, I wrote a letter to Marion Barry, explaining the situation, and asking for his assistance in motivating his people to come up with a solution.   Within just a few days of my sending the letter, action resumed on our case.  Lo, and behold, the disagreeing parties resolved their differences.  Mayor Barry took care of the people, and in this case, we were part of “the people.”  Eventually, we were back in business.

We often dismiss, denigrate, judge, ridicule or condemn others based on aspects of their behavior or personality.  Just as often, there is another side to them we overlook or fail to acknowledge.

It really gets complicated sometimes, but the love and example of Christ caution us not to oversimplify.